


A Stretch of the Rack

by Slantedlight (BySlantedlight)



Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M, friday 13th
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 05:48:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9308105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BySlantedlight/pseuds/Slantedlight
Summary: On Friday 13th, perhapsThe Rackmight have gone differently...





	

_Set during The Rack - in a universe gone awry..._

It was nearly dark by the time they reached Garratt's, having already been through half a dozen of London's less than salubrious neighbourhoods and what felt like dozens of pubs and clubs, twilight falling with all its dull weight. Doyle shifted irritably in his seat as Bodie slid the car to a stop, worried at his lips with his thumb. Every time Coogan and Williams vanished from sight, vanished into the shadows, he wondered if another man was losing his life because of him - someone who'd trusted them for protection, had trusted _him_.

"John Coogan, pursuing his enquiries..." Bodie was fed up too.

"Yeah." He took a deep breath, tried to be calm, to be reasonable and rational about it. Tried _not_ to want to hit something. "Well, with his contacts he's got a better chance of finding Parker than we 'ave..."

They sat, they watched, they waited.

After a while, as they had the time before, and before and before that, Coogan and Williams emerged, got into their car, and started the engine. 

"Here we go again," Bodie said, "In and out like rabbits at Springtime..."

"Well at least we know Parker's alright. They'd have brought him out if they'd found him."

"Yeah..." Bodie turned the ignition when Coogan was halfway down the street, pulled out to follow yet again. "If he's got any sense he's on a flight to Spain an' all."

"Or better yet, the other side of the world," Doyle replied with grim amusement. "Not much point turning up at Coogan's villa if you've gone to all that effort to get away from him."

"Trouble is, Parker's too smart for any of it - he'll be here in town somewhere, keeping his head down, pretending nothing's wrong..."

Doyle realised he was unconsciously rubbing at his lips again, lifted a foot to the dashboard and rested his elbow against it, gripped the top edge of the window instead and watched the grubby coloured lights of London flash past them. They joined a main road, kept a couple of cars between them and Coogan, weaving and dancing amongst the traffic in a never-ending thread of orange and red and oncoming beams of white. "'ey up - are we heading home?"

"Looks like it - maybe he's given up for the night."

It would give them a chance to pursue their own enquiries, their own leads - though they'd not had much luck with them the day before. But Benny'd tracked Parker down once, maybe he could do it again.

Sure enough, they joined the M4 and then came off towards Wargrave, passing Coogan's car as it paused at the gateway to his fancy mansion - locked and secure, this time. When they were out of sight - just another anonymous vehicle on the small road - Bodie pulled in and looked at him.

"What d'you reckon, Batman?"

It was too dark to see his face clearly, but Doyle reckoned Bodie looked tired, there in the way he held himself determinedly straight, in a slight droop to his eyes, in his relentless cheerful energy. It had been a long day already, and if Mather's attack on Bodie had been anything like her attack on him, then...

They needed something, they _both_ needed something.

"Benny got his lead out of Parker's ex last time, didn't he?"

"His mum!"

"What?"

"Parker's mum!" Bodie was turning the Escort across the road as he spoke, gunning them past Coogan's place and back towards town at a pace that would excite the local boys no end. "She lives out Battersea way, and she's still keeping tabs on him. Tough old bird - rules the roost _and_ the neighbourhood. If anyone knows where Parker is, she will."

"Parker's mum..?" He grabbed at the handle above the window as they took a broad curve too fast, allowed himself a twist of a smile. "How do you know Parker, anyway?"

Bodie glanced at him, and Doyle caught for a moment that glint in his eyes that meant he was laughing at the whole world. 

"Mary Weaver was in Umuahia when we went through - Biafra," he added at Doyle's quizzical look. "God knows how she got there, but Parker's father had been running guns all round Africa for years. I never met him, but Mary never would sit down and shut up when she was told, so there she was, pushing sixty and a hard bargain for a couple of crates of Uzis she'd nicked from the Portuguese. She took a liking to me - _not_ like that - and looked me up one day years later. Wanted help for a mate in Zimbabwe or something, but I was long out of it by then. Anyway, she kept in touch, and when she found out I was joining this mob she made sure I met her eldest..."

"Parker's mum's a gun runner?"

" _Was_ a gun runner," Bodie said firmly, "She's narrowed down operations since then -"

"What, taken on the local knitting club?" Doyle interupted, "She must be in her seventies now!"

"But I bet she knows where Parker is."

And that, he thought, as the black towers of trees gave way back to motorway lights and then the brick and pebbledash of suburbia, was all they really needed.

o0o

Doyle was heavy-eyed from lack of sleep the next morning, and short-tempered from their failure. From the look of him, slumped against the wall outside the inquiry room, so was Bodie. He managed a sarcastic " _Morning_ ," and carried on down the corridor and up to accounts to get them both a coffee from the machine.

If only they'd got _something_ from Mary Parker, anything at all. She hadn't even been close-mouthed, she'd babbled on perfectly happily about Parker, made sure Bodie had his current address and phone number, and made them endless cups of tea, reminiscing long into the small hours. 

And not once had she let slip that Parker was on the run from the Coogans, that he was doing anything more extraordinary than lose regularly at the bookies.

He nodded at Carole and Margaret, frowned at the change in his pocket, and wished the coffees were hotter still through the styrofoam cups, wished they could scald through his thoughts and take his mind off things. By the time he got back Coogan and Williams were also outside, and he handed a drink to Bodie, still in silence.

His watch seemed to sound the time too loudly, tick by tock, and he followed the second hand as it moved joylessly from one number to the next, then the minute hand as it clicked into place and the whole round started again. Where the hell was Cowley? There'd be no chance to catch him up on progress, no time to find out whether...

There - striding up the corridor, looking harried. When Doyle would have intercepted him he received an impatient frown, a sharp wave of a hand, and then Cowley vanished into the inquiry room.

On the folding seats against the wall opposite, John Coogan smiled complacently.

Tick. Tock.

There was another cluttering of footsteps and David Merlin appeared from the shadows of the corner, a be-hatted, overcoated man trailing along behind him. Doyle turned his head and squinted to see who it could be - some upstanding citizen, no doubt, brought along to testify to Coogan's goodness. He was hiding his face though, it was someone...

"Parker!" Bodie's involuntary gasp beside him, his hand clutching Doyle's thigh to get his attention, brought him sitting straight up, as awake as he'd ever been.

And it was, it was Henry Parker, with a nervous smile for Bodie as he passed them, and then John Coogan was rising from his chair, taking Parker's hand and shaking it, patting him jovially on his back.

_Fuck_.

He glanced at Bodie, who was looking thunderously on the happy-families reunion. Merlin gave them all one last approving beam, cast a smile in their direction that Doyle wanted to punch from his face... Christ, no! Would he never learn? If it wasn't for his bloody fists they wouldn't be here now, fighting for their future and quite possibly their lives. If John Coogan managed to wriggle his way out of his one...

But how had they got hold of Parker? How had they got hold of a _smiling_ Henry Parker?

From behind the wooden doors of the inquiry room, he heard the Judge's gavel come crashing down - once, twice, thrice. It began again.

o0o

Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

The wooden doors opened.

"Raymond Doyle! William Bodie! John Coogan! Frank Williams!" Each name made statement by the usher, and called out with the deathly solemnity of conviction.

Doyle pushed himself up from the hard slats of his chair, stiff from hours of inactivity, let Bodie remind him with a tug on his sleeve that he needed to straighten his tie yet again, let himself be propelled forward by Bodie's hand on his back. They were waved to join Henry Parker, standing at the back of the room, waited while the judges conferred. Doyle searched out Cowley's face, it was turned away from them.

Finally, Judge Hall nodded to his colleagues, turned to face the inquiry.

"The object of this inquiry has been to look into the death of Paul Martin Coogan, which occurred while he was in the custody of CI5. Our preliminary findings, which will be duly reported to the House, along with resulting recommendations, are as follows: that CI5, while working within their special remit to the government, did cause the unlawful death of Paul Martin Coogan who died as the direct result of a blow to his stomach, administered by CI5 Agent Raymond Doyle."

Doyle swallowed, closed his eyes for a moment, forced himself to open them again and face the court, face the consequences of what he had done. Of who he was. _It was true_.

"Further, the initial information upon which CI5 acted in raiding John Peter Coogan's residence is unclear. Claims made that this information was received from an informant appear to be incorrect on the word of the alleged informant himself."

"Lies!"

The judge stopped, frowned in their direction. "Mr Bodie, I can assure you..."

Beside him, Bodie had stepped forward, was pointing dramatically to Henry Parker, and speaking loudly to the judge and the whole court. "He's been got at - bribed, or threatened, and you..."

Judge Hall slammed his gavel against the table, and even Bodie fell silent. "...I can assure you that the matter has been considered in some detail, and..."

"Parker contacted _us_..."

The gavel again. " _Mr_ Bodie - you are here as a courtesy only, at the request of Mr Cowley, and if you continue to interrupt you will be taken from this room! Is that understood?"

Bodie stood in mutinous silence, Doyle reached out a surreptitious hand and pulled at the cloth of his trousers.

None of it mattered.

He'd killed Paul Martin Coogan.

Bodie stepped back, and the court paused for a moment, seemed to take a breath and then let it slowly out again. With a final chastening glare, the Judge carried on, a hangman's noose of words.

"The CI5 Agents in question will remain on suspension pending a full inquiry into their actions on the day of Paul Coogan's death, and there will be a further investigation into the current situation as regards the CI5 brief to investigate. It is no longer considered appropriate, either in the eyes of the government or of the public, for a government agency to act outside the common good and rights of individual citizens, and our report and recommendations will reflect this.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the press, you are free to report on the outcome of this inquiry as you see fit, and following the normal rules and guidelines of your profession.

"This Court of Inquiry is closed."

And the gavel came crashing down.

o0o

_April 2010_

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Discoveredinalj challenge _Discovered in a Nightmare_ , hosted by Robeau ([Challenge post](http://discoveredinalj.livejournal.com/177335.html)) in April 2010


End file.
